Forgotten Heaven
by AoiBlu-Kun
Summary: His existence was forgotten by Vincent, only but an unhappy memory hiding in the crevices of his mind... Completely random Vincent P./Undertaker fic that Sakana-san and I challenged each other to. Go read hers, it's better! :D


**Forgotten Heaven**

**Author:** AoiBlu-Kun (once xNarUkeUchiMakix)

**Pairing(s):** Vincent Phatomhive/The Undertaker

**Rating:** T for non-descriptive sexual flashbacks

**Summary:** His existence was forgotten by Vincent, only but an unhappy memory hiding in the crevices of his mind... Completely random Vincent P./Undertaker fic that Sakana-san and I created with our bored minds.

* * *

It was an abnormally warm August day in London. Vincent Phantomhive, head of the Phantomhive Household and loyal Watchdog of her Majesty the Queen, was out fetching his pregnant wife Rachel pastries from a popular bakery in town.

"I want scones," Rachel requested with her hands on her bulging belly. Her long, amber-blonde hair was pulled back into a bun, away from her slender face. "In every flavor. I want at least five, please. Our son appears to have a bit of a sweet tooth."

Vincent smiled to himself. He couldn't be any happier with his life. He was a young, wealthy, attractive man, he had a beautiful wife whom he loved more than anything, and he had a son on the way. Life, for the Phantomhive Earl, was perfect.

As he made his way to the bakery, Vincent began to feel his own sweet craving make itself known. He wondered what they would have and debated on what sounded pleasant at the moment. Something chocolate-y and baked, the Earl decided. He rounded the corner and came face-to-face with the bakery. Its brightly-colored exterior clashed with the dark London town surrounding it. The light shades of pastel that coated the small building stood out worse than an ink stain on a white dress shirt. The sign above it read, 'A Little Piece of Heaven Bakery' in swirly cursive.

"Welcome!" a cheery male voice called out as Vincent opened the door. A small bell chimed as he did so. The young Phantomhive looked around the almost strangely bright bakery and his nose was suddenly filled with the delicious scent of baked goods. His eyes immediately made contact with they display counter, taking in the sight of the mouth-watering pastries contained behind sparkling, glass windows.

"What may I help you with today, sir?"

Vincent tore his eyes away from the chocolate-filled square of sugary goodness he was fixated on and looked up at the man behind the counter. The first thing he noticed was the man's ridiculously long, silver hair. It was far longer than Rachel's and he had braided a small section of it in the front. His bangs, a cropped mess of silver, hid his face, although they did not fully cover the scar that ran along his right cheek.

The second thing the Earl noticed about the man was that he seemed oddly familiar. The man was not old, despite his hair color and he could not have been any older than Vincent, by the sound of his voice or the look of his smooth, pale skin.

"Yes, how many flavors of scones do you have?" Vincent asked.

The man behind the counter smiled. "We have quite a few, sir. Our usual flavors are vanilla, chocolate, and strawberry, but we also have seasonal and specialty scones, as well. Would you like me to name them off for you?"

"No," Vincent declined politely. "Would it be too much trouble to have one of every kind you have?"

"Of course not, sir," the gray-haired man said. He turned to grab a large pink box from underneath the counter and began to fill it with the different scones, leaving Vincent to search through the other pastries.

As he filled the box, the Earl couldn't help but wonder where he had seen the man before. Maybe around town? Possibly. But he got the feeling that he had seen him on more than one occasion...

"Do you like chocolate, sir?" Vincent looked up at the man once again.

"I do," Vincent said. "Is there anything you would recommend?"

"Ah, yes," the man said. He pointed at a large circular pastry, drizzled with chocolate icing and powdered sugar. "It may not look like much, but this one must be my favorite." The man pulled one out and handed it to Vincent. The dark-haired male gladly took the pastry and stared at it hungrily.

"You may try it, if you wish," the man behind the counter said.

Not having to be told twice, Vincent took a bite of the doughy circle in his hand and melted. It was unlike anything he had ever tasted before. The inside was filled with warm milk chocolate, vanilla custard, and something else that the young Phantomhive could not place but was almost positive he had tasted before.

He moaned, unable to keep his pleasure contained. It was absolutely delicious.

"What is this called?" the Earl asked.

"That, sir," the man behind the counter giggled. "is called Vincent's Little Piece of Heaven. Do you not remember it, sir? I made it specially for you."

Vincent's smile fell and his opened his mouth in confusion. "Excuse me?"

"It must be my bangs," the man said. "Or is it the scar? Although I did not think you could forget it. It stands out."

"What?" Vincent was beyond confused.

"Don't tell me you've forgotten me already, Vincent?" The man ran his hand across his face and through his hair, lifting up his bangs, and uncovered his face.

Vincent's eyes widened. He dropped the Little Piece of Heaven in his hand as his thoughts swirled and mixed until he realized where he had seen that face before.

"You're..."

_It was hot – so hot – as sweat and skin slid against one another. Moans and groans echoed through the Phantomhive Mansion. The air in the kitchen was thick and Vincent could barely breathe._

_ "Deeper," a voice cried out from beneath him. "Oh, Vincent..."_

_ The sound of skin hitting skin over and over again drummed in his ears. All he could do was feel. Feel the intense, raw pleasure he had never felt before filling him, drowning him until he was numb._

_ "So good... Vincent..."_

"Did you miss me, Vincent?" the man asked, a grin on his face.

"You..." The Earl could remember him. Could _feel_ him. His face heated up.

"So you _do_ remember me," the long-haired male said. "I'm glad. I knew you wouldn't be able to forget me." Vincent caught the underlying message in his words and shivered.

"I'm married," the young Phantomhive said. He wasn't sure who he was telling.

"I know," he said. "And you're going to have a son. Congratulations."

It was quiet. Vincent looked around the bakery, feeling awkward and embarrassed. He didn't think he'd ever see the man again, not after that night.

"What are you going to name him?" he asked. "Or is Rachel naming him?"

"I do not think that concerns you," Vincent said harshly.

"Alright," the man said. "Even though I already know what you've decided."

"You don't," Vincent lied. Of course the man knew what his future son's name would be.

He had been the one to pick it, after all.

"I've missed you, Vincent," he whispered. "I miss cooking for you." His eyes glowed with a mischievous glint. He disappeared from the counter. "I always think back to that night."

"It meant nothing," the Earl blushed and attempted to ignore the hand that was creeping around his waist.

"That's a lie," the gray-haired man whispered in his ear. "We both know you wanted it just as bad as I had."

"That was a long time ago," Vincent yelled. "I'm happy now–"

"Are you?" he asked. "Are you happy with Rachel? Happy with settling down and starting a family?" His breath hit the Phantomhive's pale neck, sending shivers down his spine. "I know you, Vincent. Better than Rachel ever will. That's not what you want."

"You don't know what I want." He shook. More lies.

"Then tell me." Fingers laced themselves into the dark-haired male's hand. "Tell me and I'll be happy to give you whatever you want."

Something moist touched the back of Vincent's neck. He couldn't move. He didn't _want_ to move...

Silence dragged out in the bakery. The Earl thought of Rachel, how much he loved her, how much he wanted to be with her. He thought of his son, and how much he loved him.

"Ciel..." Vincent whispered quietly. He wanted his family. "Let me go."

There was a pause. "As you wish, _Master,_" the man said, then the hand around Vincent's waist fell and the lips on his neck removed themselves.

Vincent collected the pink box off of the counter, closing it, then turned to look at the demon behind him. His blood-red eyes shone bright, filled with hunger and lust.

"Will that be all for you today, Sir?" the demon asked.

"Yes," Vincent said and with that, he was out the door, the sound of the ringing bell becoming nothing but a melancholy memory to the young Phantomhive.

* * *

**And done! :D**


End file.
